So when everyone told me that I absolutely had to visited the Vatican, I took their advice with a grain of salt. Wanting to make my own decision, I did some basic research. I read about long lines, hordes of visitors taking photos of priceless paintings and strictly controlled access to see the most famous pieces. But I was so intrigued by the complex history, the breathtaking art and the stunning architecture that, against my natural inclination, I decided to visit the Vatican. I should have known better.

Once upon a time a naive, brown-eyed, girl took job as a regional representative for a company with a head office located across a grey and blustery sea. Her position required her to visit this main office in the heart of a big, exciting city at least twice a month. To our innocent protagonist, this seemed like a brilliant idea that would be filled with exhilarating, exotic adventures. Who doesn’t want to live the glamorous life of travelling for business? She could see herself drinking hot lattes in plush airport lounges, dashing from cabs into hotels wearing long trench coats and cute heels, eating dinner in nice restaurants with interesting colleagues.

My weight is the highest in years. My skin is suffering from terrible, ongoing acne. My energy is gone and my sleep patterns a mess. My exercise routine is non-existent. My mood is terrible. And my life has become a series of never ending to do lists.

I have now been in Northern Ireland for almost 6 weeks, but in someways it feels like I have been here for much, much longer. I have been wanting to write about my experience since arriving but I was hesitant to put down in black and white how I really felt. I felt like I should be excited about my adventure and only write about happy things, life-changing things, inspiring things. But I couldn’t find those words. Then I remembered why I started this blog. I started it for me. I wanted it to be a way to express my feelings, to work through my emotions, to reflect on the moment I was experiencing. Both the fantastic and the mundane, the happy and the heartbreaking, the personal and the public. I didn’t create this blog to satisfy an audience, to seek approved or to get attention. I wanted it to reflect me; my truth. And the truth is that when I first arrived in Northern Ireland I wasn’t having a happy, shiny adventure.

This morning I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. Considering I have given my number to exactly two people – my roommate and the organization I interviewed with, I was pretty sure who it was. I was shocked to think that they would be calling me at 9am on a Monday because normally when you are rejecting someone you aren’t in a rush to do so, but I really didn’t think I stood a chance of getting the job. As it turns out they actually did want to offer me the job! I am still sort of in shock and I can’t figure out why me. (I mean I know I am totally awesome and all but I have just arrived, know nothing about UK charities or Irish politics, I don’t have a UK driver’s licence and I was a jet lagged crazy person during the interview…so what’s up?)